Hold your breath. Watch me leave. You checked my phone while I was asleep, Then asked me why I looked so weak. I learned to weigh each word I said, As if the wrong one sealed my fate. You go silent for a couple days, Make me guess what I did wrong. By the time you finally speak, I've already blamed myself. Your words still tell me what to think, Even when you're not around. I won't go quiet. I won't fold in. I won't live inside your version. You drew the lines. You set the terms. I'm done accepting what I don't deserve. I won't go quiet. There's still a dent beside the wall, From the night you threw the picture down. You swear it happened differently, As if denial could erase it. I packed a bag three times this month, Then put it back where it belonged. Tonight the handle's in my hand, And something finally feels different. The worst part wasn't what you said. It was hearing myself repeat it. I won't go quiet. I won't fold in. I won't live inside your version. You drew the lines. You set the terms. I'm done accepting what I don't deserve. I won't go quiet. For a second, I almost stayed. That's the part I hate to say. Not because I loved this. Because it started feeling normal. Not your witness. Not your proof. Not the target you aimed me at. You don't decide. Not this time. I won't go quiet. I won't bend now. You don't get to follow me out. The door is shut. The lock is turned. Some bridges burn because they should. I won't go quiet. Hold your breath. I'm already gone.
